


Puella Magi Touko Magica

by zenonaa



Series: TogaFuka Week 2015 [7]
Category: Dangan Ronpa, Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4324239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'No one deserved her help. No one. Her existence was just a big middle finger to all of them. Maybe this witch would do everyone a favour and kill her like they all secretly and not-so-secretly wanted. It was a shame she was too disgusting to give them that pleasure herself. Too selfish, because, because a part of her didn’t want to die but to be given a reason to live.'</p><p>Prequel to Puella Magi Makoto Magica</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puella Magi Touko Magica

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to this fic: archiveofourown.org/works/1785208/chapters/3825241
> 
> ALSO STOP CRASHING ON ME, CHROME.

Some kid, down on his luck until he came into possession of a strange jewel, became Hatsuyo City’s witch... Hermes! But that wasn’t to say he was Hatsuyo’s only witch. Such a claim would be a terrible insult to the resident wish-granting bear, Monobear, who was extremely dedicated to warping reality so as to make each of its clients’ wishes come true. Hermes hadn’t even been called Hermes up until recently. Monobear thought of that name. Pretty clever, right?

“No,” came a voice.

“Huh?” went Monobear. It slapped its paws over its mouth. The reply had come from a girl with her eyes trained forward, walking alongside Monobear. Monobear peered up at her curiously and asked, “You really have no friends whatsoever?”

All of the walls in the corridor had a grainy texture, speckled with different shades of brown. Repetitive and dull. Sort of like her, really. She wore a circular shield on her left arm that Monobear could see its reflection in and that, to be honest, was the only interesting thing about her.

The girl didn’t answer Monobear’s question.

“What about that chump you made your wish for?” said Monobear. “Y’know, your childhood sweetheart.”

Faint light radiated from the end of the corridor that grew brighter as they approached it.

“Fukawa-san?” asked Monobear. It let one paw drop to its side and left the other over its mouth. “Hello, Touko Fukawa? Hello? You listening? I thought you had bad eyesight, not bad hearing.”

Monobear was tempted to tug on the skirt of her dress. It ended mid calf so even someone with Monobear’s short stature could grab a handful. A pawful, even. The dress was a dark purple, its collar black, with a corset and cuffed sleeves. Dull. Boring. Like her.

“Are you being tsundere?” said Monobear.

“Th-There’s nothing to say about him,” the girl, Touko Fukawa, replied, looking straight ahead. Her heels clacked against the floor. “He returned so he... could be with m-me again... just like I wished for...”

The end of the corridor opened up into a large clearing. Like the corridor that preceded it, the surfaces of this area also had a grainy texture but not in the same colour. It was as though they were seeing everything through static. A blotchy blue sky stretched above them and cardboard rectangles were imbedded in the ground, as tall as buildings. No, they were buildings, or they were meant to be buildings, because all of them had windows and a door scribbled onto them in marker pen.

Touko reached behind her circular shield and retrieved a crossbow, pulling it out of an interdimensional pocket. She loaded it with a bolt and pointed her crossbow ahead of her, not firing, not yet, and waited.

Monobear held its paws behind its back and hummed.

Ten seconds later, disembodied hooves sounded, clomping over stone, getting louder. Closer. Touko tensed. To her left, between two buildings, an ox emerged, and another came into view from the next alley. Touko turned her head from left to right, counting as more appeared. In total, there seemed to be five oxen. Four were black and one had a brown coat. All looked like wall paintings from thousands of years ago brought to life.

She fired the bolt in her crossbow. It flashed purple and soared forward, hitting the brown ox in front of her. The ox let out a pained cry. Only managing a few steps, it collapsed, melting into a pool of brown liquid, and the other four oxen charged toward her to avenge their fallen comrade.

“This ought to be fun,” said Monobear, rising off the ground and floating backward so it could have a better view of the developing battle.

Touko reloaded her crossbow and shot at the black ox directly to the right of the brown one. That ox fell. She reloaded again, nearly dropping the bolt, and slew the ox to the right of that one. Having cleared a space of oxen, she ran into it, never turning her back on her opponents, fumbling with a fourth bolt, dropping it as she stumbled over a mound. Her hands trembled as she loaded a replacement bolt. Successful this time, she fired at the nearest ox, only to miss.

Her eyes widened.

The ox was faster than her.

It lunged forward.

She intercepted the attack with her shield, cringing at the loud crack of collision that consequently rang out. Given a few extra seconds to act while the ox was dazed, she seized the opportunity to sprint back and reloaded her crossbow. Her next shot proved successful. One ox remained. Breathing heavily, she reloaded her crossbow and fired another bolt. The last ox fell, spilling a pool of liquid that stopped just shy of her toes.

“Now it’s time for the boss battle,” said Monobear.

Touko lifted a shaky hand to her face and pushed her glasses into position on her nose. She returned her hand to her crossbow.

Thunder clapped. A gust of wind blew Touko’s twin braids to the side.

“There!” Monobear said excitedly, pointing at the sky. “There it is! The witch!”

A caped figure hovered above them. Though humanoid, it had a large beak and flapped a pair of feathery, white wings as it glared down at Touko with yellow eyes. Its face was bright red, marked with black strokes that formed eyebrows near identical to its painted moustache, and it wore over its eyes a black strip of material with holes like a mask. Touko aimed between its eyes. Another gust of wind passed by.

She fired a bolt.

Hermes swooped down, out of the bolt’s path, red cape billowing. It closed the distance between it and Touko in an instant and swung a taloned hand at her. Touko caught the attack with her shield and staggered back. Unlike the ox that almost landed a blow on her before, Hermes needed no time to recover after its last attack and it threw its fist forward again. She found herself unable to counter with any offense and was forced back, continuously blocking, with no opening in sight.

Monobear patted its paw over its mouth and yawned. “Oi, oi. Hurry it up, will you?”

Touko gritted her teeth. On her collar, pinned and worn like a brooch, was a feather-shaped gem. Her gem started to glow purple and it shone a ray of light that passed through her opponent, hitting the floor behind it. A silhouette formed within the spotlight that soon morphed into a replica of Touko. The replica dashed over to Touko’s side.

Faced with two of the same person, Hermes hesitated. In that moment of confusion, both Touko and her replica darted back, zigzagging and readying their crossbows. Hermes rushed forward, at the real Touko, but she was prepared. She shot a bolt between its eyes, stunning it, cracking its face, and her next bolt flashed red, hitting the same place of the bolt prior, exploding on impact. It howled in pain, clawing at its charred face, and Touko fired a final red bolt.

Smoke filled the surrounding area. Touko coughed into her sleeve. When the smoke cleared, she wasn’t in a cardboard city anymore. She stood in an empty apartment. Sunlight poured in through a broken window.

“Not bad,” said Monobear. “Don’t forget your Grief Seed.”

At her feet lay a black orb with silver veins that created a pattern that looked like a sword stabbed into a fractured sphere.

“W-What’s the point?” she asked as she bent down to pick it up. She straightened and stared at the orb in her palm. Her fingers curled around it.

“The point?” asked Monobear.

“I-I’m going to be collecting these for the rest of my existence...” Touko tugged at her hair with one hand, distressed. “My p-pathetic existence...!”

Monobear tilted its head to one side, amused. “You got your wish granted, didn’t you? Ain’t that worth all the trouble?”

Touko’s clothes shattered, revealing a satchel and her sailor fuku underneath. She delved a hand into her satchel and retrieved her phone.

There were two hundred missed calls, all from the same person. All from him.

* * *

It had to be worth it.

(It wasn’t worth it)

* * *

The doors of the carriage slid shut and the train departed from the station. Three businessmen stood near the doors and they swayed a bit as the train began to move. Otherwise, Touko and Monobear were alone, sat together on shabby red seats.

“What exactly happens when your Soul Gem goes completely black?”

Monobear turned its head.

Touko balled her gloved hands into fists on her lap.

“What happens?” she thought. Her fists trembled. “Do you just die?”

“You cease to exist,” Monobear replied.

She moved her lips as she spoke in her head. “What does that mean?”

“I guess it’s kinda like dying,” said Monobear. “You can think of it like that if it helps your tiny human mind come to grips.”

Touko hunched her shoulders.

“Hey,” came a voice. “Darling. Are you all right?”

A man with greasy hair squinted at her from near the carriage doors. His two companions followed his leering gaze.

“N-None of your business! Try anything and I’ll scream,” Touko snapped, hugging herself.

“Whoa, I’m just trying to be nice. You’re not even hot. Crazy bitch.” The man returned to his newspaper. He adjusted his grip, rustling it. On the front page was a story about a recent murder committed by who the media had dubbed ‘Genocider Syo’. This was her eleventh murder.

Eleventh? Touko visualised the tally mark scars on her thigh and gagged like she had while getting dressed that morning. Eleventh. Definitely eleventh. She looked down quickly and bowed her head forward, running her fingers through her hair and unravelling her braids slightly.

The train pulled up at her stop and she hopped off it with Monobear at her side.

“Ain’t it late for a girl like you to be out?” asked the man from before, grinning, showing too much of his stained teeth. He smelled of cigarettes.

Touko’s heart hammered at her chest as she hurried away.

“Aw, don’t be like that!” he called after her.

Not until the rumble of the train departing had faded away did she whip out her phone. No new messages. No missed calls. She kept her phone out so she could use its screen as a torch. Ceasing to exist wouldn’t be too different.

* * *

With every step forward, the walls either side of Touko seemed to press closer. Her shoulders bumped into brick as she staggered through the alley, grazed skin throbbing like her left inner thigh. Twelve murders. Twelve murders now. She felt as dirty as the hair on the crucified corpse that she woken up in front of. The only relief that she received was from that it was too late at night for her to distinguish the blood and most of the visual one sentence description details. If only most of the murders happened at this time, not midday on weekends, even though she was scared of the dark.

Unless she gained consciousness in a dark room, middays were always too bright.

Touko stopped at the entrance of the alley and leaned heavily against the wall to the left of her. Her shoulders heaved. Ideally there would be no murders, but she couldn’t control what her alter did. She took off her ring and cradled it in her palm. The ring changed shape, into a small, purple orb with black clouds within it, and the purple intensified moments later.

It had detected a nearby witch.

“You ready?” asked Monobear, stood next to her.

“W-Why should I bother?” asked Touko, closing her fist around her orb, her Soul Gem. She flicked her tongue and tasted rust. “No one cares about me... so why should I protect any of them?”

Monobear shrugged.

Touko squeezed her Soul Gem and strode away. The questions that she asked Monobear echoed in her mind as she made her way through a network of alleyways. No one deserved her help. No one. Her existence was just a big middle finger to all of them. Maybe this witch would do everyone a favour and kill her like they all secretly and not-so-secretly wanted. It was a shame she was too disgusting to give them that pleasure herself. Too selfish, because, because a part of her didn’t want to die but to be given a reason to live.

She turned into an alleyway that, going by the intensity of the glow from her Soul Gem, was where she would find the portal that would take her into the witch’s barrier. Purple light flared through her and when it disappeared, she was wearing a dark purple dress and a circular shield on her left arm.

After a few steps, the surfaces of the alleyway started to ripple, visible due to red lamps that flickered, suddenly faulty. Black ooze bled out from the walls and hardened into protruding, bumpy squares. Then the lamps switched off completely and a second later, the alleyway burst into full, unfiltered colour. The alleyway now split off into a lot of other corridors but Touko could see a door at the end of this passage, and so she headed that way.

During that blink of darkness, the ooze had transformed into framed paintings. Initially, as she walked through the alleyway that had patchwork walls made of metal, not stone anymore, she only glanced at the images either side of her. None of them were in good condition, sometimes faded in places and other times clawed at. A few were even burnt. One portrayed a young boy perched on top of a craggy rock, where from below arms reached for him that belonged to melting faces. Another showed the boy in a red cape trimmed with white fur, older, as he strutted to the other end of the portrait.

Soon Touko’s feet dragged. Her gaze lingered. The writer in her linked the pictures together into a chronological story, all centred on the scowling blond boy as he rose to power. She came to a complete stop.

“What’s the hold up?” asked Monobear. It studied the painting that had her attention. “You a fan of trees or something?”

Touko ignored Monobear and clasped her wrist with her other hand. In the painting, the branches of the tree resembled human arms and the grooves in its trunk made it look like a human torso. Though the tree didn’t have a human head, two cartoon bees hovered above it, holding a crown. She narrowed her eyes. Yes, definitely a crown.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“In the paintings. Th-There is a boy in most of them. Who is he?”

Monobear shrugged.

She stared a bit longer and then continued through the alleyway. If it could be called an alleyway. It was more like a hallway in an art gallery now.

“Your Soul Gem is getting pretty corrupted,” Monobear remarked, skipping along.

“I-It’s not like you care.”

“Okay, but you said it, not me.” Monobear hopped. “Though really, you saved me the trouble by doing that. You’re always so aggressive, you know? I have one client who is always so polite with me. We’ve known each other for years and she wouldn’t talk to me like you do.”

Touko shot a glare at Monobear. “Why don’t you g-go away and be with her then?”

“I keep tabs on all my magical girls,” said Monobear. “Other than a few visits every once in a while, I don’t need to supervise them. You? Upupupu, you’re gonna meet your end soon at this rate.”

They came to the door at the end of the hallway.

“Then I’ll cease to exist,” she said softly. She put her hand flat against the door and felt it stick.

“Yep. Geez, you make everything sound like a bad thing. Genocider-san is way more fun to talk to. What makes her come out again? Blood?”

“Sneezing too,” Touko replied, feeling nauseous. In even less of a mood for conversation now than before, she pushed the door open and went inside.

A large hall awaited them. Sweeping brooms dotted throughout the new room captured Touko’s attention temporarily. The brooms threw up dust as they wandered aimlessly, slashing furiously with their twigged heads at the scratched flooring. More paintings hung on the walls but examining them and interpreting them wasn’t a priority right now. Not when a witch had to be somewhere nearby.

She pulled her crossbow out from behind her shield and padded into the room. Brooms scraped all around her, grating on her ears. Thankfully, this would be over soon. All she needed to do was locate the witch of this domain, kill it and then she could go home and wait for the next witch. In addition to the brooms, there were voodoo dolls with patchwork handkerchiefs over their heads, armed with batons, but she ignored them as well.

Monobear and Touko crossed over to a pillar in the centre of the room and walked around it. There, an artist mannequin slowly slid into Touko’s view, crouched in front of an easel. The mannequin was composed of limbs from different mannequins so it was lopsided, one arm bigger than the other and a darker shade of brown, and one of its legs was actually an arm. It ignored her, hunched over as it used the tip of its hand to paint a picture of a boy with a noose around his neck. When it paused and looked up, Touko turned her head and saw the subject of its painting doubled over on the floor.

Touko recognised him as the boy in the paintings. He seemed about her age, with shaggy blond hair and glasses that had a white frame. His features were sharp, like his nose and his chin, contrasting with his vacant stare and his fingers bent beneath his palms. Her gaze flitted from his glimpse of blue eyes to his neck, where she caught sight of a brown mark on his neck.

“I-Is that a hickey?” she asked, eyes wide. She loaded her crossbow with a bolt.

“It’s a witch’s kiss,” corrected Monobear. “It means a normal human being, such as this bastard here, is being possessed by a witch. Remember?”

“I k-knew that,” she snapped, now noticing that the mark was a picture of a cracked skull. “It just looked like a hickey for a moment.”

She aimed her crossbow at the mannequin, the witch, and fired at its head. Her bolt bounced off. The witch continued its painting as if nothing had happened.

Touko tried again. Not receiving a response this time either, she loaded her crossbow and shot a bolt through the witch’s easel. That elicited a response from the witch. It wailed without a mouth, sounding like someone was smothering it, and rose upward, growing larger as if its anger made it swell. Due to its height, its head bumped against the ceiling so it had to slump forward onto all fours.

The witch gave another scream and swung one of its front arms at her. Touko didn’t dodge and slammed into a wall, dropping down to the floor. Eardrums ringing, she wobbled as she got back to her feet, clutching her left arm. She felt weak. Syo must have hunted witches and not replenished their magic with a Grief Seed, and Touko didn’t have any on hand.

Shards of brooms and scraps of string lay scattered across the floor. Maybe this witch would kill her after all.

Her grip tightened on her crossbow. Touko refused to give the world the satisfaction of her demise. She sucked in air and ran across the room, leaping over the witch’s arm when it swept it across the floor. On landing, she saw the boy, still unconscious, and she ran over and scooped him up. There had to be somewhere that she could put him, out of harm’s way. The witch shuffled as it turned around, clacking, craning its mouldy ball joint neck.

With the boy slung over her shoulder, Touko jumped as the witch punched the floor, missing them. Its joints groaned. A few paintings fell from the walls.

Touko mouthed, ‘its joints,’ to herself and tossed the boy to the floor, firing a bolt at the ball joint in the witch’s elbow that was raised in preparation for another attack. The ball joint shattered and its forearm detached completely. Her next bolt struck the upper arm joint of its other arm as the witch tried to bring its second arm up and forward. With no limbs supporting the top half of its body, the witch’s face crashed into the floor. She sprinted over and sprung up onto its head, firing a final bolt into the back of its neck.

Everything dimmed.

Dots of red light popped into her vision. The lanterns in the alleyway were back. Touko was back in the alleyway.

“You did it,” said Monobear. “You cut it close but what’d ya know, you defeated it.”

She made a dismissive grunt and began to look for this witch’s Grief Seed. Before she could find it, she came upon the boy from the barrier, lying on his back. His eyes were closed. Wanting to see if he was alive, Touko squatted down and rolled his head gently to the side. The witch’s kiss was gone from his neck. Her fingers pressed harder, checking for a pulse.

He seized her wrist.

Touko yelped and felt her throat constrict, unable to move.

His eyes opened and he stared up at her.

“Who...?” he asked, blinking slowly.

She trembled.

“Where...?” He furrowed his brow. “What...? Don’t... go...”

Touko wrenched her wrist from his hold and jolted to her feet. Her outfit disintegrated, leaving her in her sailor fuku. She pivoted on her heel and fled. Something hard under her foot caused her to trip, but she didn’t stop to find out what. At the entrance of the alleyway, she turned and disappeared into the night, and she didn’t notice that Monobear wasn’t with her until long after her heart stopped racing.

* * *

The witch’s kiss was gone from his neck. Her fingers pressed harder, checking for a pulse.

He seized her wrist. His eyes opened and he stared up at her.

“Who...?” he asked, blinking slowly.

“I’m Touko Fukawa,” she said with a smile that the boy soon matched.

“Touko Fukawa,” the boy murmured, and his voice and her name sent a shiver through her. He winced with pain. “Where...?”

“A witch possessed you and took you into its barrier,” she explained. “But I... saved you...”

The boy let go of her wrist and cupped her cheek. “Thank you, Touko Fukawa. Please... never leave my side.”

Her smile widened and she placed her hand over his. A moment later, he crumbled into purple dust that receded into nonexistence.

It should have gone like that. It did in books.

Conversation hummed downstairs in the living room. Touko stayed kneeling on the floor of her bedroom for a while longer.

* * *

At the end of the school day, after Touko helped sweep her classroom and after she attended calligraphy club, she opened her shoe locker and found a note had been slipped inside it. She unfolded the note, which had a picture of a pig in round glasses drawn on it. Heat prickled her flushed face and she scrunched the note into a ball. It remained in her fist until she started her walk home, finding a new home in a rubbish bin.

“Upupupu. Was that a love letter?” asked Monobear, who had shown up unannounced as usual.

“Y-You’re only asking because you know the answer will be no,” she said.

“Well? What is it then?”

She stopped abruptly. “It’s got n-nothing to do with you!”

Two fellow junior high students slowed down and stared at her, bemused.

Touko looked away from them and resumed walking with a quickened pace, rounding the next street corner without losing speed.

Monobear burst out laughing. Her face grew hotter.

“I don’t care,” she insisted bitterly. “M-My parents are going to homeschool me soon anyway.”

“Real fascinating,” said Monobear once it seemed to have got all of its laughter out. “So are you going to be hunting witches today?”

She fidgeted. “I have-”

“Upupupu!”

Touko glared.

“Okay, I’m done,” promised Monobear.

“... I have homework, but I think... I’ll do it later.” She balled her hands into fists and then slackened them, not wanting to think about her growing pile of overdue homework. The heels of her shoes thudded across the pavement. “I prefer searching for witches while it’s... light. Outside.”

“It’s a shame that humans had to go ruin the dark for themselves,” said Monobear, walking with mute footsteps. “You know, by going out and killing each other and attacking young girls and all.”

“The dark can hide almost anything in its confines... I-It’s understandable if I don’t like it.”

Monobear’s eyes gleamed. “But you fear the dark because of other humans, don’t you, Fukawa-san? It’s humans that you’re frightened of, not the dark itself.”

Touko felt a chill and wrapped her arms around herself. Finally, she said, “W-Why wouldn’t I be? Sometimes... my parents lock me in a closet with no food or light whenever... I get in their way... and my childhood friend, that I made my wish for, s-snuck up on... m-me... in the dark... a-and h-he...” She trailed off, flipping through a mental scrapbook of shoves and fanged grins and bad touches that ended with his dead body and a single scar on her leg.

“You might want to postpone your sob story. People are looking at you like you’ve lost your mind,” said Monobear, reeling her in from her thoughts. At least for now. Touko looked around and seeing that Monobear was right, she bit her lip and fell silent. “You’re yabbering to empty space for all they know. Did you forget that they can’t see and hear me or what?”

She stiffened, movement taxing now, and prised her ring off her finger. It changed into an orb now more black than purple. Only a sliver of hope could have been keeping it from total despair.

“There doesn’t seem to be any witches around here,” said Monobear unnecessarily.

“Then I’ll go somewhere that has witches,” she replied.

Witches tended to reside where humans were at their most vulnerable, such as hospitals. Rather than catch a bus or get to one by ambulance because she passed out while attempting to make the journey on foot, Touko decided to visit the much closer cemetery. This wasn’t a place that she went to often, ever, but she had passed by it several times. When someone regularly woke up in an unusual place, they had to know their way around so they could get back home.

Ten minutes later, she pushed open the cemetery’s creaking metal gate and glanced at her Soul Gem. The purple within it shone so Touko climbed up the stone steps inside the cemetery, alternating which side of her she eyed warily. Most of the family shrines were speckled with age like liver spots, some garnished with moss as well. Splodges of green bordered the cemetery, bulbous and looming and creating smudged shadows. Birds tweeted on the greens’ catwalk branches, oh so alive even when obscured by leaves. She inhaled shakily and checked her Soul Gem for an indication of how far away the witch was.

As if answering, a pink portal trimmed with black lace appeared at the top of the stone steps. Touko clenched her Soul Gem, sending a surge of tension through her arm that conjured a purple sleeve onto her in a sweeping motion. The feeling flooded into the rest of her body and so the rest of her outfit came into existence. She pulled out her crossbow from behind her shield and jogged up the steps, passing through the portal and arriving in the witch’s barrier.

Her surroundings wavered, changing. Trees shuddered into candyfloss on stakes driven into the ground and shrines sprung into gumdrops that bobbed up and down.

“I can feel my teeth rotting,” muttered Touko. “I-It’s a dentist’s worst nightmare in here.”

A chocolate rabbit hopped past, followed by its kittens. Touko wrinkled her nose. The sky had been overcome with an obnoxious pink and it was a peculiar thought that she had entered such a carefree place from a cemetery, where living people went to see shrines of dead people because they cared. She turned her head as she surveyed the area, sighting animated gingerbread men pottering about and jelly bean flowers growing in chocolate shavings. Not the witch.

“Show yourself!” shouted Touko, brandishing her crossbow.

Ahead of her, a section of the ground parted like a set of double doors, peeling outward with equally sized flaps to create a hole just large enough for a horizontal wicker casket to rise out from it. The casket tipped forward to stand vertical. A pause, and then the lid opened. She steadied her crossbow, fixing her eyes on the witch inside.

Shaped like a ball, the witch was enveloped in a mess of strawberry liquorice laces and two stubs stuck out from the top, like cat ears or rabbit ears or horns. Nothing underneath was visible, assuming the liquorice laces were only an outer layer. As it floated out of the casket, its tail swished, a single strand of red.

Touko waited a beat before releasing her bolt.

The witch dropped to the ground, dodging, and bounced forward. She made a vague motion to get out of its way but didn’t, weighed down by the memory of how her bolt missed, or something. Whatever the reason, Touko didn’t move, though she remembered her shield at the last moment and raised her arm. Her opponent smacked into her shield and flung her back. All of her body ached and she groaned, sitting up, because apparently she had lay down. On top of that, she had apparently let go of her crossbow, and she drew another out from her shield.

A ball of red danced in her blurred vision. Touko’s glasses had fallen off. Her glasses had fallen off and the witch was getting bigger. No. Closer. Of course closer. Once it got close enough, she would have to shoot a red bolt at it and hope it dropped a Grief Seed.

Something landed on her lap. Touko picked the something up and squinted. It was a Grief Seed, which was odd because she could swear that she hadn’t defeated the witch yet.

“You forgot this last time,” said a voice.

She hesitated.

“Use it quickly,” the voice said.

Questions would come later then. Touko touched the Grief Seed against the gem on her collar. The black from the gem thinned until it was a safe purple. Another something landed on her lap. This time, it was her glasses. She put them on and looked up.

Staring down at her was a boy with shaggy blond hair and glasses that had a white frame. He spun around in a half circle and sliced his sickle through the witch. It screamed and lurched back.

“Stay by my side,” said the boy, and he didn’t crumble into purple dust this time.


End file.
